I don’t foresee a coffee table in our near future.
Rainy Day Wrestlers
I don’t foresee a coffee table in our near future.
Music Monday
Anybody Else – Phil Cook
Shak’em Loose Tonight – Rumspringa
Little Black Train – Anna & Elizabeth
Nordic Cooking: Fire + Ice
Fire and Ice: Classic Nordic Cooking, by Darra Goldstein
I checked out this new cookbook from our local library, but I’m going to buy the book because it was so painful to return; during the three-week period of time this beautiful book was under my care, it came to feel like it belonged to me!
I have always been drawn to Scandinavia. My paternal grandmother’s parents came over to America from Sweden, and I have their wedding picture (below) hanging in our living room that I often stare at, wondering about who they were and what their lives were like before coming to this country.
They eventually had a huge family and though their Swedish traditions were gradually lost over the years, I still remember having some sort of not-too-sweet Swedish cookie at family reunions, the likes of which a friendly local baker at Blueprint Coffee Abi Svoboda makes from her Swedish family’s recipes (try her cardamom sweet rolls served only on the weekends at Blueprint on Delmar — you won’t be disappointed!). There is something similar in this cookbook, but don’t be fooled — the book is so much more than a collection of recipes, it is a celebration of Nordic life.
Fire + Ice defies the stereotypical “ew” factor so often associated with Nordic cuisine, going beyond rotten shark or Surströmming (fermented Baltic herring) and brings more modern dishes to light while still holding strong traditions, flavors, and ingredients of Denmark, Finland, Norway, and Sweden. I’m dying to try this chanterelle soup with its cream, butter, onion, and parsley (allowing the delicate flavor of the mushrooms to take center stage):
And also the Salt-and-Sugar-Cured Salmon, which sounds amazing with the flavors of coriander, dill, and white pepper:
There are so many amazing recipes in this book that are just begging to be made! Also, I’m thinking my boys would get a kick out of trying some of the more adventurous cuisine. Andrew is headed to Finland this summer (where “everyman’s rights” ensure equal access to the woods and waters of the country — everyone is allowed to walk and forage freely, as long as they respect nature — my dream come true!). I couldn’t be more envious. But for now, I’ll settle for the photos and tastes from afar.
Trampoline + Sprinkler
So far, summer break has been equal parts exhausting and loads of fun. Summertime is funny. One hour can be relaxing and heartwarming, all that family time and love and togetherness, while the next hour is full of screaming and crying and attempts to reason with/teach manners to a crazy wild beast. I love having my boys home, spending time with them and watching them come up with crazy summer schemes– but the older boys have been struggling with a rough transition from school to summer, with emotions running hot and more tears than we’ve seen over the course of three days than we’ve seen in the past three months! And I get it; they are exhausted from all of the school and circus activities that have culminated over the past month. A lot was going on, and now, suddenly, it’s not. It’s a huge adjustment.
I don’t remember if we experienced quite this level of emotional turmoil at the start of last summer, but man has it been intense! A lot of pushing against rules and limits, a lot of arguing and fighting and getting hurt (feelings, mostly, but also bodies), and a whole lot of whining and crying when the answer is no. And, predictably, the answer will be no over and over again when the questions revolve around finding and eating candy (which is hilarious since we don’t even keep candy in the house), watching videos, buying toys, and constant requests for junk food. More tears when everything is perceived as unfair.
And the interesting thing is, it isn’t about having nothing to do; rather, it’s about finding the right balance: the right amount of down time, alone time, chores, play time with friends, and one-on-one time with Mama (which is hard when there are three of them and one of me). They are sweet and helpful to each other one minute; tearing each other limb from limb the next. What the heck?
On day two (lord help me) of summer break, when Andrew came home from work to find me looking rather exasperated and wide-eyed with disbelief that things could be going so wrong so fast, he reminded me that sticking to my guns was essential during that first week, that I was setting the tone for the whole summer, and that I needed to just hold firm. I nodded as he spoke, and resisted the urge to slap him upside the head for saying it right at the time I was feeling about to boil over.
But he was right. All the no’s, all the rule-setting and reminders and family meetings (actual meetings on our back deck during which I sat cross-legged in a circle with three wet and cross little boys trying desperately to use my calmest teacher voice), all of it essential. And the hugs. Lots of hugs, couch cuddles, reassurance, and reading time in-between the bouts of crying and shouting and complaining and time-outs. I started to feel like I just needed a “NO” button in my back pocket. But I want to say yes! I want to stay positive! What the hell, guys?! Why do you keep asking me things you already know the answer to???
We’ve started reading charts and chore charts, we’ve banned the word “bored,” we’ve agreed on ways to earn spending money and a summer budget to keep us in check. We’ve started our own point system that leads to exciting family outings. We’ve said no to play dates when things aren’t going well, we’ve said yes to the library and a few playgrounds. We’ve left the zoo when it was just too crowded. We’re adjusting, and it isn’t easy. But it will be fun…
So much fun!
Once we make it through this rough patch… we’ll get there.
Reading…
Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates
This powerful book, written by national correspondent for The Atlantic and award-winning author Ta-Nehisi Coates, is written in letter-form to his teenage son regarding feelings, fears, symbolism, and the harsh realities of growing up black in the United States. While the book is far from optimistic, it is, I admit to sounding boring and typical, an amazingly important book. And that is where all my discomfort comes in. I will never, ever begin to understand the black experience in America, no matter how many books I read on the subject. I will, however, try my damnedest. And while this book (and any like it) won’t likely give people who consider themselves and believe themselves to be white a true sense of what it means to be black in America, it can’t hurt either.
I found myself telling Andrew early and often that I didn’t like the book, that I was struggling to read it. It is so intense, so sad, full of so much hurt, that I would read it in short bursts with a lump in my throat before putting it down for a few days and trying to work through what I had read. The truths of these experiences which I will never know, the destruction of the black body, the institutional racism that we as a country experience in daily life, the history that has been twisted and reshaped to be more American apple pie than harsh reality, it is so hard to stomach. Because it’s dark, it’s not what we believe ourselves to be.
I kept reading, even though I had to stop myself from doing before bedtime (it is not light reading, not for those who struggle to turn off thoughts before sleep — therefore, not for me to read without lying awake at night or having nightmares in which my children were lost or in danger of being hit by a car, or even one where Emil had learned to ride a motorcycle and had sped away from me and disappeared — all set in the streets of Baltimore, where much of Coates’ dialogue occurred). Instead, I read it in a crowded coffee shop and dog-eared pages I knew meant something to me and touched me in a deep, human way. Such passages spoke to me and made my heart ache, such passages about parenthood and the vulnerability and even dread of a child’s safety and place in this country. The differences between white children and black children:
“The galaxy belonged to [white children], and as terror was communicated to our children, I saw mastery communicated to theirs… This is how we lose our softness. This is how they steal our right to smile. No one told those little white children, with their tricycles, to be twice as good. I imagined their parents telling them to take twice as much.”
There are so many passages I felt moved by, and enlightened by. It was hard to read. But I’m so glad I did.